


Rumor has it

by Kangoo



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Implied/referenced Relationship, M/M, Pining, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28692579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangoo/pseuds/Kangoo
Summary: Dorian's personal space gets invaded, repeatedly, to his great amusement
Relationships: Dorian Pavus & Male Lavellan, Male Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford
Kudos: 6





	Rumor has it

**Author's Note:**

> an old snippet i posted on tumblr but never here... until today, because my standards of quality HAVE lowered in the past two years!
> 
> for context: lyall is not, technically, the inquisitor. What he IS is a dalish elf from a mountain clan, whose brother Faelan was cursed and turned into a wolf by a spirit similar to the one we find in the da:o werewolf quest. he has a huge crush on cullen. that's it that's the plot

Dorian is used to coming back to his usual spot in the library to find _someone_ taking all the space. That someone is usually the Inquisitor (always a pleasant visit), the inquisitor’s _sister_ (not as fun, but only because it doesn’t tend to involve kissing) or Lyall (who braves his hatred of books just to see him, the darling).

The enormous wolf sulking under the window is… new.

Faelan opens one eye and stares at Dorian, unnerving intelligence glinting behind the golden irises.

“Well, hello there,” he says, because let it not be said that Dorian Pavus can be thrown off by something as trivial as a four foot tall wolf staring at him like he’s dinner. “And where might your twin be?”

Faelan huffs at that. He seems least beast today, more human (elven? Dorian never knows with those things). Days like these it’s easier to see the man he used to be in the wolf he has become.

With that in mind Dorian feels brave enough to take a step forward. He still keeps a careful distance between him and the wolf, just in case, as he browses books he has already skimmed or read through a dozen times before. Turns out he needn’t have bothered: Faelan closes his eyes again, apparently slipping back into his nap.

Already bored of the books, Dorian can’t help but let his eyes wander to the wolf again. It’s odd to see him inside, he muses, as he is notorious for his hatred of closed spaces, and without Lyall, whose side he seldom leaves.

The reason why soon becomes apparent.

Lyall appears at his elbow as silently as ever, shaving a dozen years off Dorian’s life expectancy as he does so. Dorian presses a hand to his chest, heart fluttering in surprise, but when he turns around to give him some snark—

Well.

Lyall sighs dreamily, an absent smile on his lips, and lifts a hand to his cheeks as if he could feel them warm under his fingers.

“Oh dear,” Dorian says.

“Dorian,” he replies, falling into the arm chair pushed in a corner of his little nook and melting into it. Faelan lets out a disgruntled growl as a booted foot digs in his side but barely shifts to get rid of it. “ _I’m in_ _love_.”

 _Oh dear_ , Dorian repeats, this time inwardly. He must have been talking with their dear commander then. At least he has a faint idea what Lyall sees in the man — Cullen does have a certain… gruff charm, so to speak. He can’t imagine how this conversation would go if Lyall went to Sera to gush about it, rather than him.

Still. This is going to take some time. 

He leans against the bookcase, carefully wiping any grin from his face to present an attentive face. “Tell me about it,” he prods. “ _All_ of it.”

And as Lyall launches himself into a rambling retelling of the day’s events, mundane as they may be, Dorian gleefully thinks, _Varric is going to be so mad I heard all this before him._

**Author's Note:**

> for more (?) snippets that might or might not find their way on ao3 one day, come haunt me on [tumblr](https://youngster-monster.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
